"The messenger is waiting," the servant said.
With an apology she opened the note slowly as Byng turned to the fire. She read the page with a strange, tense look, closing her eyes at last with a slight sense of dizziness. Then she said to the servant:
"Tell the messenger to wait. I will write an answer."
"I am sure we shall be glad to go to you in Wales next week," she added, turning to Byng again. "But won't you be far away from the centre of things in Wales?"
"I've had the telegraph and a private telephone wire to London put in. I shall be as near the centre as though I lived in Grosvenor Square; and there are always special trains."
"Special trains—oh, but it's wonderful to have power to do things like that! When do you go down?" she asked.
"To-morrow morning."
She smiled radiantly. She saw that he was angry with himself for his cowardice just now, and she tried to restore him. "Please, will you telephone me when you arrive at your castle? I should like the experience of telephoning by private wire to Wales."
He brightened. "Certainly, if you really wish it. I shall arrive at ten to-morrow night, and I'll telephone you at eleven."
"Splendid—splendid! I'll be alone in my room then. I've got a telephone instrument there, and so we could say good-night."